


Crossroads

by VerdiWithin



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdiWithin/pseuds/VerdiWithin
Summary: Hades and Hecate take care of an annual ritual.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 122
Collections: LO Discord Fall 2020 Fanfic Exhange





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scholarlydragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scholarlydragon/gifts).



“Oh. You remembered,” Hecate says, setting down her coffee cup and tucking her phone away.

“Of course I remembered,” I tell her, rolling my eyes a little. I don't mention that it was a near thing, and only Persephone's chance mention of the date last night saved me from missing the anniversary my friend and I have been marking together for centuries.

“You just got married. I would have understood.”

“I wouldn't. It would be unforgivable to let you down.”

Hecate shrugs one shoulder. “Well, you could have asked Persephone to join us. Her abilities would be a good fit.”

“Maybe next year. Seems like we should do this the old way one last time.” I heft the bag in my hand. “I brought the usual supplies.”

She smiles, clearly pleased. “Shall we go, then?”

The transfer, as always, is a challenge. The Narrow Spaces resist, not wanting anyone to go to this place. We have to coax and push and finally insist. We emerge in the strange dual-place and look around at the landscape: a weirdly overlaid double-vision of two places at once. 

Cerberus looks up from his guard post and  _ wuffs _ at us. He would have felt compelled to be here from the moment the overlapping began, to prevent… leaks. Now that we’re here, he yawns and finds a nearby place to stretch out. He’s needed for backup, but his job today is mostly complete.

Hecate inhales deeply and her teeth flash for a moment. “Somehow with what Demeter is doing to the weather, this feels more appropriate than ever.” Her eyes are glowing in anticipation. This ritual always fills her with vitality.

I’m not in the mood to hear about any positive effects of Demeter’s tantrum. “If you say so.”

“Oh, come on. Death is in the air! Can’t you smell it?”

It’s cold, a sharper cold than usual, but the gray-orange light is the same as always on this day. I can smell snow on its way. “Isn’t that the point of this whole thing? To take death _out_ of the air?”

Hecate grins at my sour tone. “This is an opportunity for you, to make the mortals see you in a new way. To finally get your due.”

I shrug. She and Persephone both want this, and I don’t quite get it. I don't have the will to say  _ no _ to either of them.

“Anyway, let’s get started.”

I nod and summon my bident. I pace the ground, searching for the right spot. When I find it, I direct the bident point down and let my power flow, excavating a wide, shallow trench. Hecate nods in satisfaction and removes several bottles from her bag. She takes up a stance across the trench from me, uncorks one bottle, and holds it high.

“Gorgon’s milk.” She pours a stream of bluish fluid. It steams and hisses when it hits the ground.

I take out one of my bottles. “Black wine.” I pour. As the two fluids mix, they bubble wildly.

“Corpse honey.”

“Water from the Lethe.”

Next Hecate sprinkles some powders into the roiling, stinking brew. “Barley meal. Wolf’s bane.” She nods, almost quivering with eagerness. “It's time, my friend. I can't wait any longer.”

I accept the knife she holds out to me, that she carved from a branch of yew long ago. I raise the knife to the skies and say my lines, as I do every year. “Work your will, Far-Reaching One. Turn away harm,  _ Propylaia Triodia _ . Gather the unwanted,  _ Klêidouchos _ .”

Hecate gives a shuddering sigh of pure happiness and holds her hands out over the trench. I lower the blade slowly and stop within her reach. It’s not my job to do the cutting. That’s for the Goddess of Sorcery to decide. The look of near-ecstasy on her face would be disturbing if I weren’t used to this. She runs one palm over the blade and then the other, opening shallow slashes which immediately begin to drip ichor into the bubbling infusion below us. Rotten-smelling steam begins to rise, and the swirling liquid glows vivid green and yellow.

Hecate raises her hands above her head, laughing wildly, the golden blood streaming down her arms. I watch silently. This is the part where less-predictable variations sometimes occur. Hecate's nature is so strange that she's long since decided to keep it to herself. Mostly. Once in a while she needs to indulge it, and I'm her witness. Or spotter, perhaps. I help her come back.

She gestures dramatically and there’s suddenly lit torches in each of her hands. A huge bonfire springs to life behind her, outlining her form, throwing her shadow onto me. I hold the knife and watch. Hecate begins to chant, and her feet begin to move. She turns and starts to circle the bonfire, moving more and more rapidly, her steps becoming rhythmic, dance-like.

Just like that, my friend is Three. At first appearance she is Child, Mother, and Crone, but I blink and then Hecate is Woman, Man, and Androgyne. Her forms warp and blur and flow into one another. She has sharp claws, a gaping maw, bloody antlers. She shifts and she becomes a whimpering puppy, all eyes and shivers; a roaring she-bear, fierce and protective; a looming insectile creature whose very alienness makes my skin crawl. The figures whirl around the bonfire, joining hands, throwing the torches, chanting and singing. 

I guess it’s the chaotic version this year. I take a step back from the trench and clean the knife, tucking it away. I check to see if anyone has joined us yet. There are distant suggestions of movement, but no one near. I’ll wait. 

I put on a new guise, in order to frighten away the cowards among the mortals who will come to this place to make requests of Hecate. Not my  _ most _ frightening aspect--I firmly feel there’s nothing more terrifying than looking like my father. Mortals don’t react strongly to that form, though. They need to be scared in a much more cartoonish, over-the-top fashion. I can do that.

My head elongates and my jaw protrudes with enormous yellow teeth. A snake’s tongue flicks from my slavering mouth. My eyes are red and bloodshot, pulsing with light. My fingers lengthen and are tipped with venomous claws. I grow oozing pus-filled blisters all over my exposed skin. I take a peek in the surface of the summoning liquid. Its bubbling distorts my countenance even farther, and I practice a maniacal laugh. It’ll do. Mortals are pretty easy to scare; anything out of the ordinary makes them twitch.

I’m ready just in time, as a huddled group of mortals approach the bonfire, reaching out toward Hecate’s wildly dancing forms. “Mistress!” they cry. “Please, aid us!”

I step forward, between them and the fire, knowing my silhouette will frighten them.

“Halt, mortals! Your haste does you no credit. Kneel and drink, compose yourselves to wait. Your mistress will test your worthiness when her task is complete.”

They flinch back, and move over to the trench to obey, keeping as far from me as they can. No shades have appeared yet, which is a bit odd. When the mortals have all drunk, I bend down and stir the trench-concoction with the blade of the knife. Odiferous steam puffs out. That ought to do it.

“That smells like an esoteric recipe,” says a familiar voice behind me.

I hear Cerberus jump up and gallop over to greet her. I turn with a welcoming smile for my wife, enjoying the sight of her rubbing our dog’s ears. “How did you find us, Sweetness?” It’s hard to talk with my teeth and tongue the way they are, and I slur my words slightly.

“No idea. I felt something weird, and decided to come see what it was. It was like a summons, I guess.” She smiles at me, not reacting at all to my ludicrous disguise.

Interesting. “It is a summons, in fact. Every year at this time the boundary between the living world and the Underworld gets very tenuous. So Hecate does this...  _ thing. _ ” I wave a hand vaguely. “To replenish it.”

I watch Persephone, who is fascinated with Hecate’s dance and her weird chant. I should have told her exactly what I was doing today. She's Queen now, she has a right to know.

“Where is this place?” Persephone asks eventually. She’s looking up at the low, dark clouds above us, glowing slightly with their orange light. She glances at me but otherwise doesn’t react to my current appearance.

“That’s a complicated question. We’re simultaneously at the edge of the Plain of Asphodel, and in the Mortal Realm, in Cimmeria, land of mist and shadow,” I tell her. “The mortals think there’s an entrance to the Underworld here. There isn’t, of course, but they’re also not totally wrong. Because every year, this…  _ doubling  _ thing happens.”

“Huh. So if it were left unguarded, they could step right through.”

“Exactly.”

We look down the steep hillside of the Mortal Realm at the faint motion below. Misty figures are climbing up, attracted by the simmering trench-brew and Hecate’s ritual.

“Some of those are shades,” Persephone says. “But they feel different.”

“They are.” I don’t specify how. I’m very interested to see if she can figure it out.

“And some of them are alive? Weird.”

“The live ones are mortals who think of themselves as sorcerers. They come to ask favors of Hecate.”

“Hence the--” she waves her hand at me, indicating my appearance.

“Yup. My job is to spook the ones who can’t hack it.”

Persephone giggles and reaches up to pat my cheek. “You look like you’re trying too hard.”

I grin. She’s not wrong. Over at the edge of the bonfire’s light, I notice a few shades arriving. They pause, hesitant. Cerberus raises his head to inspect them, but they’re not of much interest to him. Persephone turns to watch. Most shades are like washed-out reflections of the mortals they once were. Not so these. They look much like mortal skeletons, the flesh melted right off their bones. They move in lurching steps, uncoordinated. Their eyes are huge dark pits and their mouths gape open, crusty around their purpled lips.

“They feel… sad. Abandoned,” she says.

I’m unsurprised by her perception. “They are.”

“So these are people who were left unburied? No one cared for them?”

“Yes. Or they died out in the wilderness, something like that.”

“Poor things.” 

We watch together as the first few shades approach the trench. They kneel down and dip their heads until they can sip from the gruel. When they straighten up, they’re already dissipating, melting away in the wind.

“They go and join the general shade population,” I say. “We’ll see them in a few days for judgment.”

Persephone’s lip quirks at me. “I see. So this is kind of the sneaky back door into the Underworld?” She doesn’t wait for confirmation, reading all she needs from my expression. “So much for  _ I didn’t get rich giving out free boat rides _ , huh?”

I shrug, embarrassed. “It would be negligent to leave them wandering the Mortal Realm.”

“So you two do this every year?”

“Yes.” I watch her carefully for any sign she’s upset at being left out.

She nods. “Okay. I don't want to intrude. I have things to do today, too.”

“So… you don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind? You said you were spending the day with Hecate, and you’d be back late. That’s still true, right?”

“Right. I mean, this task is extremely important, but to be honest with you, afterwards we usually go out drinking in some pretty seedy places. For some reason on this night, Hecate prefers the grungiest taverns of the Mortal Realm. And, um...”

“And?”

“And we usually get seriously wasted.” I wait nervously to see if she’ll react. I should have told her all this already.

She shakes her head, clearly amused. “Take a shower before you come to bed, then. Assuming you can find it. You can wear all this, though, if you want.”

She waves to indicate my getup, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, perfectly at ease with my appearance. The same can’t be said for the watching mortals, though.

“Unhand that lady, monster! She is not fodder for you!” squeals one.

Persephone pulls away and turns on the speaker. Her terrible wings sprout from her shoulders, fluttering spasmodically. Her eyes are red and glowing with manic glee, and her teeth are sharp, blood-dripping fangs. “Begone, weakling!” she cries in an awful voice. “A goddess needs none of your assistance!”

The mortal shrieks and drops to the ground, but makes no attempt to run. 

Persephone turns to me, looking pleased. “Well, I’d say this one passes the test, wouldn’t you?” 

I chuckle. “It seems so.”

“Have fun, Smush.” She kisses my cheek and flits away, off on her own business.

Almost as soon as Persephone is gone, Hecate brings her wild song and stomping dance to a completion with a prolonged ululation. The watching mortals shudder violently and kneel at her feet.

She pants for a few moments, appraising them. “You are mortals who would call themselves sorcerers?” Her voice is harsh from over-use. “Show me your worth. What have you brought me?”

“If it please you, Keyholder, I bring you a tiger’s chaudron!” cries one, holding up his gift.

“Showy,” Hecate sniffs. Nonetheless she takes the offering in her clawed hand, watching as green fire consumes it in a few moments. “Who’s next?”

“I have mistletoe harvested in the dark of the moon!” another says. Hecate accepts this without comment.

“A harpy’s egg, Mistress?”

“Breath of ravens?”

“A murderer’s scapula?”

“Adder’s tongue?”

“Drakon’s scale?”

“Sugared mandrake, Protector?”

Hecate’s eyes widen and she’s suddenly the Child again. “Candy?” she squeals. “You brought me candy?” She snatches the sticky morsel and crams it into her mouth. She makes happy noises while chewing, and then pats the offerant on the head. “Truly,  _ you _ are a worthy sorceress!”

The last petitioner is still on his knees, waiting. “Dark mead, triply honored one?”

Hecate is once more herself. “That’s more like it,” she says. “Congratulations, you all pass.” The mortals cry out in gratitude and she waves them away. “That’s enough, go away! I’ve had it with you.”

In a few moments, we’re alone again with Cerberus. The bonfire is dying down and the contents of the trench are greatly diminished. I let my horrid disguise dissipate and go back to my normal appearance. “A good one this year?”

“Yes! It feels amazing to be Three again.” For a moment, her image splits into her other aspects before condensing again. “Did I see Persephone here? I was a little occupied.”

“Yes, she sensed the Summoning.”

“Ah. Well, if you need to get going, I understand.”

I shake my head. “Are you kidding? You’re not getting out of sharing that mead with me. And don’t forget, you need someone to carry you home at the end of the evening.”

Hecate’s laugh is high and wild. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Red and Shana for Beta work on this, and Ellisemme for inspiration!
> 
> Far-Reaching One: Hekatos, one possible meaning of her name.  
> Propylaia Triodi: Guardian of the Crossroads  
> Klêidouchos: Holder of the Keys


End file.
